


Bah, humbug!

by UselessLesbianLaughter



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Eve, F/F, Ghosts of Christmas, Holidays, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessLesbianLaughter/pseuds/UselessLesbianLaughter
Summary: It's nearing Christmas once again and Lena Luthor is perfectly fine celebrating by herself, thank you very much, I bid you good day. If, of course, by celebrating one means fundraiser galas and late nights at the office. She most certainly does not miss Kara and her holly-jolly Christmas parties, not one bit! She sees no point in this silly tirade everyone puts on every year, what an utter waste of time. Frankly, she hates Christmas and everyone witless enough to try to pull her into it.But this Christmas Eve, Lena is in for a visit from a series of ghosts who show her what her miserly ways will amount to if she doesn't make a change.Or: A Supercorp retelling of A Christmas Carol
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Bah, humbug!

A biting cold wind howls outside, its bitter yowling cry touching up the crackling frost coating the windows. Lena shudders, burying her hands deeper into the sleeves of her cashmere sweater, her fingers itching for a mug of something hot to clutch. Many stories below her lies a bustling street of comers and goers, many with prickling fingers dreading the cold, coats drawn tight around their shoulders, red cheeks and redder noses, and bags hanging from as many places as it’s humanly possible to hang a bag. It’s the last-week-before-Christmas rush, when every pitiful soul without the wits to get their holiday shopping done in an orderly manner storms the stores in a desperate pack of fate-mates. This rampage naturally excludes one Lena Luthor, who’s had her planned presents at the ready since October. It’s easier, of course, when little thought needs to go into each gift, merely a show of goodwill to associates and shareholders. Her secretary handles the bulk of it, anyway.

To think, this time last year she had that same glint of holly-jolly desperation in her eyes as everyone else. She has, most certainly, wised up since then. It made no sense for Lena fucking Luthor to be spending Christmas with, what, her little rag-tag team of friends? What an odd and silly thought. No, she has much more profitable ways to spend her time, this is a prime time for fundraiser galas, after all. She has a comfortably packed schedule for the whole holiday season, with no time for feelings or other such utter tosh.

The freezing winter breeze howls louder and crueller and Lena pours another glass of scotch, the taste rich on her tongue, the familiar burn in her chest warming her up as she swallows a generous sip. Since L-Corp is nearly inhabited this time of year, she’s turned the heating down to conserve energy, a decision she’s sorely regretting now. The building is all but a ghost town, with few offices left illuminated. Everyone’s gone home for the holidays to spend time with their families. Nearly everyone, anyway.

Lena’s quite happy where she is, thank you very much. Save for the cold, her office looks much more festive than her stock photoshoot apartment ever has. It even has its own little tree, cut down, carried up and decorated by someone else. The ornaments hang geometrically around it, perfectly colour-coordinated with the decorative presents underneath. There’s a free-for-all bowl of gingerbread on her table, baked and painted by someone else, with wonderful matching white swirls of snow on each cookie. Lena herself has left the bowl entirely untouched. She’s quite happy living off of scotch and coffee as it stands, _thank you very much._

Frankly, she doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about. If anything, everyone else should be miserable, as they’re all running late for something, as they all have _so much to do, so little time!_ as they all trample each other to get the most recent barbie or beebo or whatever else their kids have seen on TV. Traditions this, traditions that! Spending Christmas at the office or the lab is tradition for Lena, anyway. Plenty of peace and quiet.

A glance out the window reveals in a city in lights. Apartment windows glow warm in the cold, decorations hang in red, green and bright white lights. Each anonymous glow with its own story, its own family big or small, here and there a menorah, then and again a shadow or two passing by. Surely, some of those windows must stand for those all alone, Christmas feasts for one. Surely, one of those must stand for Kara, never alone, surely, smiling bright amongst family and friends. Kara, who’s surely decorated a tree, who’s surely baked gingerbread with flour splatter on her cheeks glowing pink, who’s surely made Danvers family recipe eggnog, who’s surely been blasting obnoxious jolly Christmas music since Thanksgiving. That, _of course_ , doesn’t bother Lena one bit, she doesn’t _even think about her!_ Totally done with that, with her, for good, perfectly content right here, _thank you very much, I bid you good day!_

She doesn’t even like Christmas music, and she doesn’t like gingerbread and she doesn’t like eggnog and she doesn’t like presents and she most certainly does not like Kara, neither does she miss her or the whole silly charade that comes with the holidays, no, _not one bit!_

Her heart is as it was always supposed to be – cold as the howling wind outside, hard as the icicles dangling from roofs around the city, threatening to fall upon the next unsuspecting pedestrian. And though her fingers are taking on a blue hue from the cold, she is much more content here, knowing Christmas will be like any other day, the way it’s supposed to be.

Straightening her aching back and stretching out her stiff arms, she glances at the clock, now framed in a wreath of holly. It’s quite late, and she’s more than caught up for the day. She might as well head home.

Wrapping herself tight in her overcoat, dragging on a complimentary pair of gloves, she shudders at the thought of the icy weather outside. One last glance at her home away from home and she flicks off the lights, leaving only the electronic candles on one of the shelves.

Upon her first step out the door, she’s greeted by nearly slipping on the streets slick with ice. National City really should step up its maintenance standards, no one’s even salted the damned things. A much better use of taxpayer money than that tacky tree in the city square! Thankfully, she doesn’t have to stay outside in this dreadful weather for long as a car is already waiting for her.

After greeting the chauffeur, Lena’s hoping for a silent ride home. Instead, he inquires about her holiday plans. _How intrusive!_ Well, she mutters something or other about a fundraiser gala and another, and hopes he’ll leave it alone. Clearly, she is not in the mood for chit-chat. Instead he delves into a long and passionate monologue about how very thrilled he is for Christmas, how glad he is to have made enough this year to afford all the gifts his kids have asked for, how it’s just the very best thing to see the looks on their faces when they unwrap their presents. Lena only rolls her eyes subtly and mutters something about the environmental devastation caused by the wasteful practise of wrapping paper. Ignoring that, he switches gears to talk about his wife’s Christmas roast, the best in the world, he swears by it! What silly things people lie about. The ride just can’t be over soon enough.

When they reach her address, Lena politely thanks the driver and breathes a sigh of relief as soon as the door closes behind her. She pays him handsomely, mind you, and in exchange, at the very least, one might think she’d receive some peace and quiet when she most desires it. Was that truly such a grand request? Surely not!

Safely home, she sits down to eat the same kale salad which she has for her dinner every night, and turns on the evening news out of habit, _same old, same old, fuss and misery, and nothing but that in the world._ Not much to do but pour another glass of scotch, and so she does.

The glasses drain quickly, and without her noticing, the clock turns to yet a later hour. And so, Lena heads off to bed. Though she tosses and turns, the relief of sleep does not grace her tired eyes. It’s reflex, then, for her to reach for her handy box of sleeping pills – horse tranquilisers, really – but thinking back to the scotch she’s downed this evening, a bit much even for her, she reconsiders. She might be reckless but not quite so much. Fine, then, instead she resorts to staring blankly at the ceiling, her cold green eyes boring holes into the concrete with their icy yet indifferent, glassed over glare. It’s a bore, a dreadful bore! But before she thinks to reach for a book, or yet another glass, a terrible rapping comes upon her door. Abruptly, it stops! Lena breathes a sigh of relief, must’ve simply been the winter wind, this building really should be better secured. She’s noticing now, that even under the covers, in her warm winter pyjamas, she finds herself quite cold. Blame it on the dreadful season, of course.

But the rapping returns, the hinges on the door creaking as they never have before. Her bedroom grows ever colder, the windows frosting over, her bed more like a frozen over lake. Though she draws the covers closer to her throat, the cold does not reduce. With a violent blast, the door bursts open.

Lena’s breath gets stuck at the back of her throat. Though she wishes she could yell, all that leaves her lips is a pathetic whimper.

“Brother,” she finally stutters under her breath.

In the doorway stands an unusually transparent and glowing, but usually indifferent Lex.

“But- but- but-” Lena stumbles.

“But, but, but,” Lex mocks in his familiar fashion. “I’m dead? That much, dear sister, is, unfortunately true.”

“You’re not here!” Lena shakes her head in denial.

“Oh, but I am.”

“No, there’s no way! I’ve simply- I’ve simply had too much to drink, or this is a nightmare!”

“Oh, you’ve definitely had too much, but that does not make my presence any less true. Believe me, I’m just as disgruntled to be here as you, it’s an unfortunate duty.”

He certainly _sounds_ like Lex. But it couldn’t be true!

Lena takes a moment to observe him more closely. He looks as he did in life, only she can ever so faintly see through him outside her bedroom, and he glows a faint blue, like some utter caricature of a ghost only her intoxicated mind could in a dream concoct.

“Oh, calm down, will you? I am only here to deliver a message and then they’ll let me go, back to _eternal torment_ of whatever.”

“Who’s they?”  
  


“I fail to see how that is any of your business. Let’s see then,” with an eyeroll, he pulls a scroll out of seemingly nowhere, “blah, blah, blah, eternal damnation, yada, yada, yada, Christmas spirit, oh, here, that’s more fun! You will be haunted by Three Spirits. It is your only hope to shun the path I tread – that’s awful dramatic – expect the first tomorrow when the bell tolls One. Look to see me no more, and now, message delivered, I’ll be on my way.”  
  


“What spirits, brother, what path?”

“Jeez, you come all the way back from the dead and your own sister won’t even give you a simple thank-you. Or an apology for shooting you, not even a ‘How are you, Lex?’ ‘How’s the afterlife, Lex?’ Terrible, thanks for asking. People these days,” he mutters, and already a wind is tearing him from Lena’s bedroom along with a chorus of disembodied voices moaning and wailing.

The cold subsides. Still, Lena shudders in her bed, clutching her blankets to her throat. Frozen in place.

**Author's Note:**

> will i finish this grossly christmas-themed story before 2021? place your bets now!!   
> i try to write as fast as possible but my brain is literally rotting and life keeps throwing shit at me lmao,, good times  
> anyway, happy holidays ya'll, comments appreciated


End file.
